


I vow an eternity with you

by AussieBudgieB



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corpse Bride (2005) Fusion, Episode: The Abominable Bride, Halloween, Inspired by Corpse Bride (2005), M/M, basically Moriarty in a wedding dress, johniarty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AussieBudgieB/pseuds/AussieBudgieB
Summary: John decides to practice his proposal at his best friends grave. He has no idea what’s waiting for him beneath the ground.(Basically a corpse bride Johniarty because Moriarty in a wedding dress while dead is canon thanks to the special movie)
Relationships: James Moriarty/John Watson, Jim Moriarty/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 52





	I vow an eternity with you

Imagine if you will, a full moon high in the night sky, illuminating the desolate graveyard below; it’s beams travelling though trees to make odd moving shadows on the grass as the leaves blow in the soft wind. As silent as a graveyard at night, because that’s exactly what is is. And yet, footsteps. A small sound, gradually increasing until they come to a stop in-front of a new gravestone. John Watson collapses to his knees in front of Sherlock’s grave.

“My friend” his whispers, “my dear friend, I’m sorry. I’m-“

Chocking on his words, he swallows them down and tries something else.

“We were a great team. More like I was a great sounding board to your genius, but you needed me to keep you alive. Remember the pill? You just had to prove you were so clever. We were great together. Everyone thought that we... Angelo, Mrs Hudson, bloody Mycroft and... well, who cares what they thought” it’s over.

The dynamic duo has only one member now, and all because the other had to go and die. John wishes Sherlock was still alive so he could slap him, tell him he was a stupid fool. Why didn’t Sherlock trust him to save him, to save them both? The idiot went and faced their greatest adversary alone.

Moriarty. A most dangerous man, a most villainous criminal who had stated from day one that he planned on killing Sherlock, on ripping out his heart. No one alive knows what happened on that rooftop, but Sherlock most definitely had his dead heart in his chest when he fell.

He ‘fell’.

He jumped. After Moriarty was dead. A double suicide. Not even Mycroft cared to speculate what could have happened in such a brief time period. Not to John Atleast.

John hopes though, with all his heart that Sherlock had not died in vain. He wouldn’t have killed himself without a good reason. But John is no Sherlock. He can’t unravel the mystery. So he’s getting on with his life, or Atleast he’s trying to.

John hangs his head, as if burdened with the weight of the world.

“I’m getting married” he admits finally. The words painful to speak. He shakes his head.

“She’s lovely. She’s normal. You’d hate her.”

He huffs in humor as a thought occurs, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you rose from the grave just to tell me all your little observations about the worst of her”. He phrases it like a statement but there’s a question in there, a hope.

He waits, but the grave remains the same, save for a bug - a spider crawling along the top of the headstone, starting on a web.

“Of course” he breathes finally, “you never did the expected”.

Getting back up on one knee, John reaches into his breastpocket and pulls out a small box. He opens it up and displays it to the grave. If one were to look from afar, he would look like a grieving man, too late in proposing to his one true love.

Clearing his throat, John stretches his mouth into an uneasy smile.

“May as well practice, right?” He asks the grave.

The spider has been busy building its web in the corner of the tombstone, but it stops for a break, almost as if ready to pay attention to the grieving man.

“I vow to love you and cherish you and never leave you, my beloved, to the end of time. In sickness and in health, and not even death ca—shall part us. I shall be yours eternally”

Tentatively reaching out his empty hand, he lays his palm against the cool lettering of his partners name. It’s too late. It’s far too late for the words to have any meaning to the one re really means.

Quite suddenly, the spider that had been building the web quickly drops down on to his hand and before John can react - it bites! It’s front talons sinking into his skin and injecting its poison.

His moonlit night turns pitch black in the blink of an eye. Damn spiders.

John feels himself waking up, his thoughts return and slowly he opens his eyes. Something is off. For one, a dead man is right in his immediate field of Vision. A dead man in an old, rotting wedding dress. Specifically Jim/James Moriarty.

“Johnny boy?” The dead man whispers.

Hoping he’s having a hallucination, he tries to shake it out, closing his eyes tightly, and then opening them again. Moriarty in a wedding dress is still there, now grinning at him, mirth shining in his eyes. Which is odd, seeing as how the man is dead.

It’s obvious the man is dead, unless of course he had a dedicated make up team, although that didn’t quite explain the indented holes in his skin which has been chewed on by bugs. John thinks back to before he passed out, he was bitten by some kind of black spider, was there red on its back? He couldn’t remember. The most logical solution to all of this was the spiders poison is making him have a hallucination. A horrible, bizarre Hallucination.

“Moriarty?”

Moriarty nods and lifts his left hand into Johns view, “I said yes!”

John looks at the familiar ring shining against the white skin. On some of the fingers, some bug has chewed through to the bone, and the finger tips are black. But the ring finger is in perfect condition, save for a few nibbles here and there. The ring fits perfectly.

John stares at it for a really long time, “why are you wearing that?”

Moriarty rolls his eyes and pulls away from John, finally giving him some personal space

“Honestly darling, keep up. You proposed and I accepted. The wedding is tomorrow night”

At Johns look of alarm, Moriarty continues “I would have had it tonight but there’s just so much to plan, and you’re not even fully dead yet! Don’t worry, that will happen at the wedding”

John feels more awake now, and more than a little alarmed.

“Stop!” He calls, although Moriarty had already stopped with his little speech. Still, John holds up a hand as he gathers his thoughts.

“Sweetheart?” Moriarty calls out sweetly. John clenches his teeth at the name.

“No. No names. We-“ he gestures wildly between them “are not getting married. I-i didn’t even propose!” He ends in a yell. Moriarty is quick to push his finger up to Johns lips to shush him.

“Quiet pumpkin, the dead would like to sleep in peace”

John feels confused, ‘the dead’? He looks past the man in the wedding dress who had been in his view this entire time.

He’s no longer in the cemetery.

A large room, almost cavern-like in appearance is filled with glowing candles flickering though no wind passes though them. What’s most terrifying is the other inhabitants- skeletons, half rotten zombie people, black piles of dust reassembled into the shape of a human, some corpses even looking new and alive. Some are sitting at what appears to be a bar, although none seem to be able to retain any liquid. Some are watching a dancing skeleton on stage. Tuning in, John finally hears faint music coming from that direction. It sounds oddly lively. He can hear some of the lyrics,

‘The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,

Devour your body from organs to grout!’

Catchy.

“This is one hell of a hallucination” John grumbles, the finger finally slipping of his face.

“silly dear” Moriarty pats Johns head, “This is no hallucination”

“Then why are you in a dress?” He asks

Moriarty looks at the offending article,

“Oh it’s a silly story. The short version: Iceman and Sherley thought it was funny to compare me to a ghost story where a bride-” here he lifted up his dress in a curtsy “-shot herself, bleh, she died and THEN came back to life! Well jokes on them as I - and you’ve stopped listening”

Johns mind had frozen soon after he had heard that Sherley.

There was a lot to take in at the moment. Dead people, Moriarty in a wedding dress, the ground above him, the throbbing spider bite on his hand, Moriarty in a wedding dress. So much all at once, and John had just not long woken up. His mind trying to figure out what was most important to focus on and at the mention of his best friends name, his mind focused.

“Where is Sherlock?”

As is his character, Moriarty pulled an exaggerated confused face, furrowing his brows with a frown, looking left, then looking right, raising a hand above his eyes as if searching.

John knows he’s being made fun of, but he discretly looks too, but something doesn’t add up,

“Were you- you said I ‘proposed to you’,” At this Moriarty nods “but I only practiced my proposal at Sherlock’s grave. So if anyone should have... you know” he trailed off.

Smiling an almost sympathetic smile, Moriarty said “Oh sweets. They had to put someone in his casket, seeing as he didn’t need it after all”.

Oh. So, Moriarty is dead - in a wedding dress (wearing Johns ring) and Sherlock is still alive, somewhere.

John decides to give into the darkness clouding his vision again and promptly faints.

Perhaps the world won’t be upside down when he wakes up again?

Upon waking up again, Johns first thought is the softness underneath him. Is that a pillow under his head? It almost feels like his bed, and he could believe he’s home again, and all of it had been some terrible nightmare. But it isn’t his bed, it’s not nearly soft enough, and the smell is unfamiliar.

Opening his eyes, John immediately closes them again, not at all liking what he sees.

Why him?

“Goood morning sunshine!” a bright and chipper voice calls out. John groans in response.

There is no way this is happening to him. Surely it had all been a hallucination. Yet, waking up a second time and seeing the same hallucination doesn’t sound right. Unless he’d gone mad ...?

A small laugh escapes his lips as the thought hits him. Yes, he must have simply gone mad.

“Johnnny, wakie wakie!”

Hesitantly opening his eyes again, Moriartys face once again blocking out everything else in his field of vision.

“Piss off” he tries weakly.

Pouting like a child denied chocolate, Moriarty flicks him on the forehead - hard. It hurts. It’s really real, not a hallucination. He definitely must be mad.

“That damn spider” He says, mostly to himself

“Uhh rude” Moriarty responds, confusing John - why does the dead man care if he’s rude to a spider? But then the spider appears, crawling between the frills on Moriartys dress to sit on his shoulder,

“Firstly - her name is Lottie -it’s short for Charlotte- and she is not to blame for anything, she’s a precious thing” Moriarty coos as he holds the spider in his hand and brings it infront of his face, Making kissy faces at it.

John stares in disbelief, although it’s hardly the strangest point of his evening.

“She bit me”

“Well duh” Moriarty says, rolling his eyes “As I said- you proposed and I said yes! We had to get you here somehow, Lottie was kind enough to bring you to me”

Johns head spins again, “Hold on” he takes a deep breath, “okay, one - what do you mean she got me ‘here’, and two - where exactly is here and how do I get out?” He nods, but then remembers another point just as Moriarty is about to respond “and three - I did not propose to you or ANYONE for that matter. I would never propose to you in a billion years - you’re my... my-“ my what? Best friends arch enemy, because apparently they were a thing real people could have, “you’re you”.

Moriartys previously amused smile had vanished at that last bit and John feels a chill run though him. Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say.

“Ouch love. ‘You’re you’, not even a ‘you’re the one who tried to kill my best friend?!’? I’m hurt. Really Johnny, on the day before our wedding too. But I can forgive you I guess. I’m feeling cheerful tonight” he says and the grin is back.

Standing up, careful of his dress, Moriarty holds out a hand for John. John stares at the slightly rotting hand, then back at Moriartys face. His expression still playful but the grin fades as the seconds tick on. Not wanting to face his wrath, John grabs onto the offered hand and is pulled up.

Looking back at what he had been laying in, John notices with some distain that he had been in Sherlock’s-no, Moriartys coffin. No time to reflect on it as Moriarty excitedly drags him through a large dirt tunnel system, the tunnels seeming to go deeper and deeper, until an opening at the end of the tunnel leads them back to the room he had first woken up in. Letting go of his hand, Moriarty spreads his arms out wide to show off the room

“Welcome,” He says, dramatically pausing “to the underworld!”

Damn spider.

Well, it made sense. There were dead people here. The question still remains on how he got here in the first place, and how he can get back back to... the overworld? The surface, as this place is obvious underground. Who knew.

Some of the undead pause to look at the odd couple, John hear whispers from a few about himself. Moriarty is still standing there, arms wide open with showmanship, seemingly staying in that position until John responds. He forces a sarcastic smile onto his lips,

“Great, so where’s the exit?”

Arms dropped, Moriarty takes careful steps towards John, forcing him to back up into a dirt wall behind him. A dangerous air surrounds the man with the changeable personality. Once Moriarty gets too close for comfort, he flutters his eyeslids at John coyly,

“There is no exit”

John looks deep into Moriartys eyes and tries to read the man, “you’re lying” he guesses

Moriartys face contorts with surprise for a fraction of a second, before it’s gone again and replaced by a sheepish smile, “yeah. I am”

Before John can say anymore, Moriarty takes his hand again and leads him though to another passage of dirt tunnels. Time drags on and they seem to walk an age.

“Don’t suppose we’re headed to the exit?” John asks. The silence had been getting to him. In the dirt tunnels, it was only their footsteps and Johns breathing breaking the deafening silence. Occasionally Moriarty would hum a cheerful tune. He receives no response from the man in front of him, dragging him along. The tunnels seemed to stretch on forever. John is sure if he was left alone, he would be lost down here.

At last, one more corner and the two men enter a new area. John forgets everything in that moment as he stares at the most beautiful sight he has ever seen.

He hadn’t noticed before, but his vision has changed since waking up down here. Certain colours popped, as though fluorescent. White became a soft blue and purples, pinks, and yellows glowed so bright.

In this cave, it was glaringly obviously as it was full of this bright glowing lights, all along the walls and ceiling. Twinkling lights like the brightest stars shined on the roof and in the air, bugs their cause, buzzing around carelessly spreading their beautiful light. Glowing greenery sprouting from the ground and vines creeping the walls, shrubs everywhere with glowing red or blue flowers. In the centre of the room, is a beautiful glowing white gazebo, with intricate patterns full of swirls in its walls.

“It’s beautiful” he whispers. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen before

His hand being squeezed pulls him back to reality as he looks back at Moriarty. His quickly wishes he hadn’t, because in that moment, Moriarty matches the room in its bizarre beauty. His eyes soft, chocolate brown reflecting the multicoloured glowing lights. His dress glowing faintly with Charlottes red stripe standing out against the white. John feels like he’s been thrust into a twisted fairytale.

No. No matter how beautiful, this isn’t right.

“Why?” He asks.

Moriarty looks away, grabbing him hand again and leads him quietly to the gazebo. He sits him down on one of the seats before sitting down himself,

“Why what? Why here, why you, why me, why...?”

All of the above. John tries to prioritise, but one question pops out more than any other,

“Why say ‘yes’? And how did that work exactly?”

“Ahhh, finally. I thought you’d never ask sweetheart” Moriarty grins, “Johnny boy. I must confess, the stars aligned. It’s simple really. I was cursed with the whole unwed bride curse, meanwhile you proposed to my grave - no matter how ignorant you were, it still happened - and I had a choice. Say no and be stuck here, bored, blowing my one chance-“

“One chance?” John asks, but Moriarty glares at his intrusion

“OR... I could say yes, and get some revenge on Sherlock by taking his little pet. That sounded like much more fun!”

He’d figured it was something to do with Sherlock.

“That’s fantastic. Even when Sherlock is nowhere to be found, he’s still messing up my life. And you -“ he glares at the man beside him “-you don’t give two hoots about my part in all of this. As long as you’re happy. What about me? You’re dead! Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Standing, needing some space, John focuses on his breathing. The stars aligned. What crap. Of course they did, because John Watson can’t ever be happy. Can’t keep his friend, can’t know that his friend he thought was dead is actually alive. Can’t move on and get Married, well, married to someone he likes. No, somehow John Watson got himself engaged to the worst possible candidate, living or dead.

Somewhere behind the sound of his heavy breathing, John hears a small voice, Moriarty muttering something indistinguishable.

“What?” He asks, voice a little harsh

“Nothing, are you done with you’re tantrum yet?”

Anger boils inside John, “no” he says stubbornly, “no I’m not. I’m not dead right? And there’s an exit? Take me there and give me back that ring” he makes to snatch for it but Moriarty pulls his hand away and behind his back.

Danger enters Moriartys eyes again as he stands from the bench,

“Do not make demands, it won’t go down well. And” he says in a faux light tone, stepping towards John again, who tries to stand his ground “the ring is mine now. Tell me John, do you even love the boring woman you were going to give it to? What about Sherlock? He let you think he was dead!”

How many times can the world flip upside down? Or is it shaking? No, John realises he’s shaking

“I-“ he’s not sure what to say. It’s all true.

Sherlock, his best friend let him watch as he fell, as his blood spread over the pavement. He let his partner in justice feel for his heartbeat when there was nothing there. How had he done that? He told John lies. He hid things from him, important things like the fact he was still alive. What happened to trust, why didn’t he trust John?

His bride to be, or she would have been. Mary. Completely normal. Did he love her? He liked her, most certainly. But love?

“I still like them more than you”

Moriarty nods, “touché. I deserve that”

That’s the understatement of the century.

John looks out again, at the beautiful scenery. Why did death look so pretty? Was this heaven, hell could surely never have such beauty. But Moriarty is here, so it couldn’t be heaven. Was there no such things, only this place, this underworld, with good and bad.

“Please... Jim. I want to go back”

Johns watches as Moriarty plays absently with the ring on his finger. He notices with a degree of horror that It’s a perfect fit. Stars really did align.

“Okay,” Moriarty shrugs carefree, “all you had to do was ask nicely”.

Turning, Moriarty points towards one of the tunnel entrances “head straight down all the way, then turn left, then it’s the second tunnel on the right, then after the open area, you take the furthest tunnel to the left, and then all the way down, turn right and there’s the exit.”

Quickly trying to memorise the sudden directions, John watches as Moriarty grins mischievously,

“Of course... that’s after you find a certain item needed to go up-top again.”

Perfect.

John assumed there would be a catch, if any of this was even true to begin with.

“I don’t suppose you’ll help me find it at all?”

“Sweetheart, what do you think I’m currently doing” he shakes his head, “there’s a book about it back in the main area, the one we were just in. I trust you’ll remember the way?” Moriarty asks, trying for innocence but knowing perfectly well that John would have no idea.

As Moriarty gestures for John to lead, he looks around for the tunnel they came in though. Alas, they all look the same. He can vaguely remember what angle they first saw the gazebo, so he works from there. There’s still two tunnels it could be in. As he peeks into each to try and see which feels more familiar, Moriarty follows silently until,

“By the way. Our wedding is scheduled for tomorrow evening. If you can’t find the exit by then, I’d hope that would mean you will be more receptive to our marriage”

John glances back but Moriarty simply smiles and twirls his dress around, waiting for John to move.

Ignoring the vague threats and the start of a countdown, John has meanwhile found the tunnel he thinks he might recognise and begins trying to retrace their steps.

It’s a long journey and he still has many questions. Hating the silence, he decides to make conversation.

“I’m here, and if I can’t find the exit, then I’m stuck here. What’s it to you that we actually get married?” He asks, feeling more confident in his path as he turns a corner,

“Well - for starters, Lottie here has been working hard on repairing my dress, and working on a veil,” he shows John the spider currently working on repairing a tear in his sleeve, “and it’s kind of the point of this whole curse, to get married and die happily ever after!”

Turning around at a dead end, John glances at Moriarty. The man seems to be in good spirits but the bitterness in his voice as he spoke of ‘happily ever after’ told a different tale.

“Not exactly the most romantic story”

Moriarty shrugs in the corner of Johns vision, “Romance has nothing to do with marriage. Marriage is a promise between two people to care and look after each other. To share the basic human needs for love, support and comfort.”

Pausing his exploration to stare at Moriarty who is looking away, John would never have suspected such an answer from the evil consultant criminal who probably didn’t even think twice about plotting the murder of someone’s husband or wife. It was ironically a romantic and yet logical answer. There had been thought put into it, like he had practiced his answer.

At the unwavering staring, Moriarty rolls his head with annoyance,

“Cmon, I was five and hopeful once. Of course real Marriages are based off temporary lust, or mutual arrangements and over time every single one of them grows to resent their partners and looks for happiness elsewhere because they choose... poorly”

Did Moriarty just quote Indiana Jones? Wait - more importantly,

“And yet you want to marry for revenge. Can’t you see the flaw in this brilliant plan? How could either of us live ‘happily ever after’?”

Almost as if he had been slapped, Moriartys head jerked sideways. Eyes flicking quickly back to John with a harsh look. Moriarty takes a careful long breath in, and out, and then smiles kindly,

“Johnny boy, eternity is a long time. Besides, being dead, we don’t really need the basic human needs. Just companionship, I can talk AT you for eternity, and that way you will never get lonely! Sounds just about perfect!” Moriarty beams, having thought of a satisfactory answer.

John is unsure of how to reply, so instead he continues walking.

Eternity. He hadn’t really thought about it. If he does... ‘marry’ Moriarty, he would be stuck by the criminals side for eternity. Was that it then? This place, for eternity? It was beautiful, but stagnant. Like time was frozen, the only life coming from the undead Moriarty. Surely Moriarty was bored, being in this place. In a hundred years, they’d still be here, as skeletons. In a million years, still here.

For eternity.

An eternity married to Moriarty. It seemed like a very long time. Even just the few hours in the mans company already seemed like forever. John imagined an eternity with Sherlock instead. Solving crimes, perhaps helping people figure out how they died, or finding loved ones who were unrecognisable. Eternity didn’t seem as long, thinking about it that way. If you got the spend it with someone you loved.

Another corner and another dead end. Perhaps he should have been paying more attention to the tunnels than his own foreboding thoughts.

Moriarty says nothing, giving nothing away. The silence driving John insane. It was too carefree, like they were pals simply taking a walk in comfortable silence. They were most certainly not friends. Wishing desperately to break the silence, John thinks of another question,

“You were thinking about weddings when you were five?” He asks, about of the blue

“Nooo” Moriarty replies, sarcasm dripping from the word,

“I thought about a lot of things. All the things normal people have in their normal lives. So yes, weddings. I imagined a really old fashioned affair, with top hats, tailcoats, bow ties. A grand piano or organ playing the traditional blasé song as some faceless person walked down the isle,” He pauses, “Then I discovered MURDER!”

John smiles to himself. So the criminal mastermind was once a romantic?

That explained the gazebo.

It was odd, to think the villain once wasn’t a villain, but just a child with hopes and dreams; Someone who imagined grand weddings and happiness that didn’t come from bloodshed. What happened?

“What happened?” John asks before he can stop himself.

Looking back, you would think that John had proposed again with the starry eyes Moriarty is giving him,

“Ohh Johnny, I’m so glad you cared enough to ask! I’m honoured you’re taking an interest in your future bride!” He clears his throat,

“once upon a time, in the world above, a child was born! Two actually. Unfortunately, their parents had only wanted the one, so the other was an extra. They choose blindly - einie meanie, miny mo! - and put all their love and money and effort into that one child. The other, however, was left to himself. He was fed, he had a roof over his head, and he was allowed to go to school. But he was not loved, not cared for and he knew it was wrong for he saw his brother be showered with love everyday and eventually all the taunts the bullies said made a bit too much sense, it’s not nice to kick someone when they’re already down, so he thought if he stayed down, it would go away. Spoilers - it didn’t. On his sixth birthday, when he was locked outside in the pouring rain while his brother had a fancy party full of adoring people, was when he finally lost all hope. Boo-hoo, the poor child.”

John keeps walking, digesting the story. Moriarty had a brother? It was sad, to know such parents existed. Johns own parents not being the greatest either, but to watch as the person next to you got everything while you got nothing, and it had been a flip of a coin chance. It had to be hard.

“Don’t despair Johnny!” Moriarty pipes up again, shocking John, “this little boy had many options. He could run away, find someone to love him. He could bare though it, he was smart and could escape into college. He could forgive and forget. Orrrr, he could kill. He could plot and have power over others. The angel on his shoulder was egging him on — ‘kill’ it said, what was holding him back? The law? No. He was too smart for even them. No, He could have gone many different directions. He choose this. It made him happy. The end.”

As the twisted story ends, John isn’t sure how to respond. How do you react to a story like that? It doesn’t excuse Moriartys behaviour, the man killed people for a living, and as he said, that was his choice. But - well, perhaps it had been a choice, but maybe as a child, alone and hurting, it had seemed like the only choice.

“I didn’t like that story” John says after some time passes.

Walking on in the silent tunnels, he thinks he hears Moriarty softly mutter ‘neither did I’.

Light appears in the distance. The tunnel finally ends and they walk though to discover the open area, the first one John had been in. Moriarty snickers beside him, stretching his arms out,

“Congratulations sweetpea, step one done. And it only took, eh- a few hours”

Ignoring the needling, John breaths out a sigh of relief. Finally. Now, what was next? A book.

“What book?” John musses out loud

Moriarty lifts his hand and points towards a table on the other side of the room, past the bar. Upon closer look, John notices a book resting upon the table. He shifts his gaze back to Moriarty

“That easy?”

“Yup” Moriarty pops the P, looking disinterested.

John heads forward, eyes in the book, but thoughts swimming in his head. What is Moriarty planning, or has he truely given in and offering help? No. No way he’s actually being helpful.

“Whada dinn?!” (What are you doing?) A slurred voice yells out, shocking John still.

Looking behind him, he sees a large skeleton man swaying in front of Moriarty who had stayed back. Through the ribs, John sees Moriartys bored expression, but it seems off. Forced. Noticing Johns stare, Moriarty gestures for John to grab the book

“Oi! - i say tehno cem bak!” (Oi - I said to not come back!)

The skeleton presses closer to Moriarty, who looks up at ...where the skeletons eyes would have been

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” He says faux innocently. Wrong move. Skeleton man hunches his shoulder blades, and pulls back a fist. In the split second John has to debate whether or not to come to Moriartys aid, it’s too late and the punch lands, Moriarty flying back a few feet and collapsing on the ground.

The book is less than a few steps away, Moriarty is back across the room. He turns back and quickly kneels next to Moriarty. He pauses first to glare at the skeleton man, a warming in his eyes,

“Kep hm outta hir. Killah” (keep him out of here. Killer) the skeleton says before walking off, towards the bar.

John vaguely understands what happened. Killer. Obviously Moriarty isn’t very well liked down here. Turning his attention back to the man bride,

Moriarty has his head down, but is smiling. Well, more like his lip is twitching upwards,

“Ow” the injured man says finally.

John laughs, the small cry of delayed pain from the other man catching him off guard. Moriarty narrows his eyes, but then he huffs out a short laugh too.

“Are you okay? John asks, pressing his fingers into Moriarty stomach area to feel for broken ribs. When no reply comes, John looks up to see Moriartys eyes watering, the man holding back a laugh,

“Johnny, I’m dead” he says blandly, before bursting into a fit of loud giggles. There’s a few snorts in there too.

John stares at the spectacle before him.A fully grown, rotting dead psychotic criminal consultant man in a wedding dress, sitting on the dirt ground, freshly knocked out by a skeleton - laughing; His eyes twinkling with tears and his mouth stretched into a beautiful smile showing his perfectly straight white sharp teeth. The wrinkles around his eyes showing true happiness.

As Johns vision grows dark around the edges, he realises he forgot to breath.

Moriarty eventually stops laughing. His smile staying though as he looks directly at John. They’re close, too close John realises and belatedly pulls his hand back. Moriartys smile turns into a grin

“Thanks anyway doc”, he looks around, “did you get the book?”

Shaking his head no, John looks back toward the table but stands quickly as he notices the book is gone. Looking every direction, he tries to see who took the book, but it’s long gone.

Moriarty stands up too, brushing dirt off his dress as he goes. John watches him for signs of pain, but if he can feel pain, he doesn’t show it as he stands up straight. Looking back at the table, John feels despair,

“I should have grabbed it” he says.

Moriarty nods slowly, “yes. But you didn’t..” the ‘why’ left unasked.

John nods too “I didn’t”.

They stare at each other, Moriartys head slightly tilted, as if trying to work something out. The room becomes lively again, the undead walking around them and upbeat music playing in the background.

“Well,” Moriarty shrugs, turning 180 on his heels, “we don’t really need the book. I’m feeling charitable at the moment”

Before John can ask what he means, Moriarty heads off towards another tunnel entrance. John quickly follows.

The tunnel is full of sound as Moriartys white sandals stomp happily along with Johns footsteps, Moriarty himself humming the same tune the skeleton band had just been playing. Thoroughly confused, John feels he needs to ask

“Moriarty, where are we going?”

Said man spins around, dress fanning out before settling back down, “Johnny, don’t ask stupid questions”

“It’s not a stupid question, I thought we had to get the book?”

Moriarty raises an eyebrow with a smirk, “we?”

Opening and closing his mouth again, John thinks about that. He did say ‘we’ didn’t he. As if they were a team, as if they were both working together for a common goal. But they weren’t, were they? Moriarty wanted him to fail, right?

“It’s Fine Johnny, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear such a lovely thing. Anyway, I’m sure you can deduce where we are going?”

Thinking about it, John puts the facts together in his head. It still doesn’t make sense, but he tries it anyway:

“To find the item I need to use the exit?” He ventures

Clapping excitedly, Moriarty twirls around again, “I knew you had a brain!”.

“But why? I thought you wanted me to fail”

“I did” Moriarty answers, although it leaves John with more questions. Did?

No time to ask though, with Moriartys guidance, they quickly reach their destination.

Another beautiful room, but also crushing in how dead it feels. John feels cold, colder than he’s ever felt before in this tragically sad room. No signs of life anywhere in the room, with vines long dead and black with age, bushes with only branches and thorns but no leaves, and yet somehow, miraculously flowers have grown. Pitch black roses fill the room, but they give no worth to the cold room, and do not add life, but seem to drain it. It’s dark, darker than a pit and John can only see it because of his new vision. There is no true light in this room, except the soft glow coming from Moriarty.

“The flowers pollen” Moriarty says, capturing Johns attention.

The dead man looks sad as he reaches a hand out towards one of the flowers. It’s outer petals crumbling upon the slightest touch. The white lace sleeves have been repaired at some point in their journey and they fall open at the wrists. For a moment, John worries about them catching on one of the many thorns near it. But they don’t and Moriarty turns towards John.

“You should grab one, they react better to someone living” he says, his voice unnaturally even.

It sounds wrong to Johns ears, Moriartys voice is usually so lively, even in death, but now it sounds hallow, devoid of feeling. Perhaps the flowers do drain life, for what other reason could cause the dead man such sorrow?

John reaches for a flower, it’s petals still wilt, but only the first two, the rest stay as John plucks it from the mess of branches. Feeling it for himself, John is surprised to find it feels just like a regular flower, only far more fragile. It’s not draining his life.

“I believe that’s step 2 and three done now” Moriarty says before muttering something to himself.

John looks back at Moriarty, the man standing too far away for someone who usually has no concept of personal space.

“What now?” He asks, although he knows what.

Find the beautiful room with the gazebo again, find which tunnel he needs, find the exit and then... it’s over. He’ll return to the surface, Mary his wife, punch Sherlock when he finds him and then... live life? Will he remember any of this? Why is being dead so much more lively than his life above, or is it the company...?

“John?” A soft voice whispers, shocking John back to reality. Moriarty looks at him, unsure - almost concerned. Charlotte on his shoulder, also looking directly at John.

“Sorry, what?” John asks

Moriarty quickly assesses him, “never mind”, he smiles but even John can tell it’s forced, “shall we?” He asks, gesturing back to the entrance. John nods and Moriarty takes the lead again. John watches the mans back as they walk along. There’s no humming to fill the tunnel as they walk on. John compares it to walking the mile on death row.

A thought strikes John as the silence continues. Moriarty stopped calling him pet names at some point. He decides to test his theory

“Moriarty?”

“Yes Johnny?”

“...Nothing” He replies, ending the conversation.

Johnny. Still not John but nothing like the earlier names, like sweetie or pumpkin. Good riddance. But... it upsets John for some reason and he can’t quite put his finger on it. Perhaps the mans ever changing moods have drained his humour of the situation. Perhaps that’s why he’s helping now. Or perhaps...

No.

After what feels like hours of walking the tunnels in silence, light appears ahead and the two find themselves back in the beautiful area again. Listening closely, John can hear the sound of the bugs buzzing around, and flowing water hidden somewhere.

“And that’s the end of ‘we’” Moriarty says, moving away from a confused John and heading towards the gazebo.

Stupefied, John steps towards him, then stills

“What?” He asks.

Moriarty stops, but doesn’t turn around,

“I’ve done my part. The rest is up to you. Tick toc Johnny”

John stares at Moriartys retreating figure.

So, that was Moriartys plan. Spend a few hours hunting for a book that they didn’t even need apparently as Moriarty knew what he needed (because of course he did), so why didn’t he just tell him in the first place. Why tag along, why help at all, why, why, why? Why leave him now?

John finds the tunnel he’s after and walks on, leaving the beautiful behind him

Holding the flower to his chest, John tries to remember the instructions Moriarty gave him earlier that evening. Or was it yesterday? How many hours had passed since they first stopped in that room? Without the sun or a watch, there was really no way to tell. John realises in all this time, he’s never felt hunger, or thirst. Was time stopped? No, Moriarty had some way to tell the time. But how?

All the tunnels looked the same; a dirt path with the occasional claw scratch, like they were carved by hand. Maybe they were.

Turn left... or was it right first?

John closes his eyes, focusing on the memory.

‘Head all the way down, then turn......’ left

John turns left. A little ways in, there’s a tunnel to the right, was it that one? It should lead to an open area. John peeks down and sure enough, there’s a faint light. Strangely enough, there’s also sound. Soft voices John can’t really hear so much as sense. He follows them down the tunnel.

Moving red dots slowly start appearing, crawling along the walls. Looking closer, John notices they’re spiders, the red on their backs glowing in his vision. Following them and the voices down to the light, John reaches an opening.

A small room full of glowing crystals.

The crystals are large with a soft blue glow. Walking in the middle of the room, John watches the red from the spiders crawl onto the crystals. There’s voices, so many voices whispering at him that he can’t make out an words.

The spiders crawl from beneath his feet towards the crystals. Getting the strange idea in his head, John thinks the spiders are trying to tell him to touch the crystals. He reaches out to one jutting from the roof just next to his head. As his hand makes contact, the voices all stop, except for one.

“And you -you don’t give two hoots about my part in all of this. As long as you’re happy. What about me? You’re dead! Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

His voice, from before, but..

“What about me?” Moriarty says, his voice so sad and angry.

John couldn’t hear it the first time, but he hears it clearly now. He pulls his hand away from the crystal and the voices all merge again.

They’re memories, past events. John searches through the crystals, trying to find another of their conversations. He touches a different one, laying on the ground,

“I believe that’s step two and three done now”

That’s what he heard the first time, when they picked the rose.

“you’ll be free from me soon enough”

That’s what Moriarty had muttered that time. It’s also said in that sad, angry voice.

Pulling his hand back, John belatedly notices all the spiders heading to one crystal. It’s a small one, but the brightest, casting a glow on all the surrounding ones that are much darker.

Tentatively, John rests his hand on the crystal. All noises stop, and he closes his eyes.

There’s a soft buzzing sound, and the sound of running water, like in a small waterfall. Someone sighs, a long, pain-filled sound. It doesn’t take a criminal genius to work out who it is.

“The funs over. He was never meant to be here anyway” Moriarty.

There’s a pause before he speaks again

“I know Lottie, we both thought that maybe... but he’s Sherlock’s” the name said practically dripping with venom, “He loves him, you know. It’s so blindingly obvious. Sherlock... that sissy. Doesn’t even realise what he has. Damn fool left him, let him grieve him, meanwhile telling little Mols all his little schemes.” Molly knows? “Some friend. If I was Sherlock, if I had someone like John I’d-.”

Another pause, and footsteps, pacing back and forth.

“I tried! That was me - trying! No - don’t give me that, I know how it seemed. I was going for that. Do you think he would have cared anymore if I had said the truth? I don’t want his pity. I just... I’ve seen him. With Sherlock. He’s a good man, an honest and kind man with a bit of a danger fetish but hey, I can’t judge” he laughs, “but he cares...”

Another pause and an ‘oomph’ sound, presumably he sat down

“Maybe he’ll get lost?” He says softly in a mutter,

“Oh Lottie” he sighs, “I just... thought, maybe - just maybe... for a second!,” he sighs again,

“I thought maybe I could have a happy ending”.

John staggers back quickly, loosing contact with the crystal. The voices all merge and fade out as the sound of his heart beat echos loudly in his ears. It’s so loud.

The spiders all turn their bodies to face John, who imagines they look expectant, like they’re waiting for him to do something, but he can’t figure it out. He can’t think. Thoughts and facts and memories swirling in front of his eyes.

He can’t stay. He’ll die

(he’ll die eventually anyway)

He needs to get back to his wife

(what was her name again?)

He needs to find Sherlock

(Sherlock doesn’t need him anymore)

(Moriarty needs him)

Moriarty is a killer, a criminal, and a rotting corpse

(But he cares about him, and Moriarty-Jim...)

‘If I had someone like John, I’d -‘

What was he going to say?

Johns vision slowly bleeds back into reality. The spiders many eyes all looking at him.

John smiles as he raises his hands in surrender,

“Okay, I get it, I’ll go find him” he laughs.

He turns back around - almost running back, heading for an impossible situation.

He finds Jim sitting in the gazebo, twirling a glowing blue flower in his fingers. His previously rotting wedding dress is stunning as the spider - Charlotte - had patched up all the holes, making the dress look new again. From afar, the scene is beautiful, a white dress in a white gazebo, surrounded by glowing green and floating lights, with a bright glowing blue in the centre.

Now that he’s here, and he sees Jim, he’s scared to death. What if it’s all a game, what if Moriarty laughs in his face?

There was always a chance, but John doesn’t think it’s going to happen. He’s seen under the veil of Jim Moriarty, and he wants to know more. And maybe. Just maybe.. he wants a happy ending too.

At the sound of his approaching footsteps, Jim looks up, his expression morphing into true shock, his eyes wide and confused and his mouth hanging open, just a little bit.

“John?” He gasps, standing up.

Steeling himself, John kneels on one knee in-front of Jim Moriarty.

“Jim-James Moriarty, will you marry me?” He asks, heart in his throat.

The flower Jim has been playing with drops to the ground.

“What?” Jim asks.

John tries to smile reassuringly

“Uh, I asked you to-“ but he’s cut off by an angry Moriarty

“No, I got that. Why? Couldn’t find the exit?”

John shakes his head, although he couldn’t find the exit, not that he tried very hard. To be fair, he got distracted.

“Not because of that. I... realised something” he says slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. Moriarty looks to be on the edge of murder. But John realises it’s because he’s vulnerable. Some people cry, some people murder others when they’re scared.

“I don’t know you Jim” he notices Jim flinch, “but I... I like your laugh. I think I even liked the nicknames. But what really sold me... was when you gave up for me”.

Caught, Jim scoffs, but John knows better.

“You did. You helped me when it was the last thing you wanted to do, because it made me happy. You care” he says, the words almost physically hitting Jim, who’s lost the murder in his stance and has now got his hands balled, slightly shaking, his eyes terrified. He’s shaking his head, but he knows it’s too late. He’s been seen.

John continues,

“So, Jim, would you care to spent the rest of eternity with me, figuring each other out, caring for one another, probably annoying each other too and” he pauses to breath, “getting our happily ever after?”

Jim doesn’t respond, and John feels panic ice his vains. Could he have been wrong? Moriarty still looks terrified, but the shaking slowly eases.

He whispers, just loud enough for John to hear

“This has to be a prank”

John gets up, resolute.

“It’s not” he says, boldly grabbing Jim by the hand and yanking him close, the motion pulling them together and John does something he never thought he would do.

He kisses Jim Moriarty. Consultant criminal, enemy of his best friend, madman who strapped him into a bomb, who organised crime and who is also a rotting undead corpse in a wedding dress. Moriartys blue lips surprisingly warm. A press of the lips to show his intention, his hand stroking the mans cheek. It lasts for a moment before he pulls away again just enough to see Jims reaction.

Jim’s mouth has fallen open again as he seems to process what just happened. John watches as his shoulders drop, releasing the tension. Watches as Jim’s eyes return to a normal size and finally look at John, his lips slowly, very slowly turning upwards into a shy smile.

“Oh” he says at last.

John laughs, his hand still on Jim’s cheek which has turned red, a beautiful contrast against the white. “Oh” he agrees.

Jim lifts his hand with the ring on it, looking at it in wonder as if he never noticed it before. He looks back at John, the Lights from all the bugs shining in his eyes. He grins,

“I do”.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Finished this JUST before Halloween. Hell yeah. I’ve had this idea for a while and I haven’t seen anyone else do this. I thought it was perfect so.. I wrote it. I hope I did the idea justice.  
> Please leave a comment if you liked it.
> 
> I’ve also got 20 other johniarty ideas, but about three already in progress. Perhaps I could ask to comment which you might be more interested in so I can focus on one?  
> 1\. Sherlock/Dracula crossover (Moriarty As Dracula, obviously)  
> 2\. Soul mate AU  
> 3\. Moriartys mind palace.
> 
> I can’t promise them any time soon, but they’re what I’ve been working on.  
> Thank you for reading my work - you’re amazing!


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